


The Six-Fold Spark

by ThatRandomDrell



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRandomDrell/pseuds/ThatRandomDrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some time has passed since Rung's near-fatal head injury was repaired, but it seems to have reactivated a long-dormant piece of programming that's determined to bite him in the aft. Literally. This product may contain the following: "male on male" romance, multiple pairings, and copious amounts of pure, grade A crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 It was a typical morning. Well, as typical as it got for the psychiatrist of the Lost Light. Rung let out a light groan as he sat up in his berth, trying to ignore the creaking throughout his frame as he gingerly worked his stiff joints loose. He swung his long, thin legs over the side of the berth, the tips of his peds barely brushing the surface of the floor. His arms lifted above his helm as he stretched out his spinal struts, and he gave a little noise of discomfort with each little pop the components in his back made. Once he was satisfied, he let his arms fall back down to his sides and vented out a small sigh.

 He sat there for a long moment, as he often did when he was alone, and directed all of his senses inward. He listened and felt his innermost components as they worked; the meshing of gears, the faint whine of tiny pistons firing, the pulsing of energon and coolants and lubricants flowing through their respective lines, and the barely-audible hum of his spark’s electromagnetic field. It was in that field that he felt something slightly off.

 Rung’s prominent eyebrows furrowed slightly, partly in concentration, partly in curiosity. Something about his EM field didn’t feel quite right. It was nothing particularly bad, but it did feel a bit more active than usual, more energetic. In fact, it sort of made him feel a bit pluckier than normal. He honestly wasn’t sure whether he should be concerned or grateful for the unexpected boost. He soon decided he’d hold off on any real concern on the issue. After all, it wasn’t hurting him at all. Besides, he had his appointments to keep.

 

* * *

 

 

 Rung’s long walk from his solitary hab suite to his office was a bit more interesting than usual. He was so used to going completely unnoticed by most everyone he passed, even to the point where he’d nearly be run over. Today, however, that wasn’t the case. The slender mech felt the lingering optics of everyone he passed looking him over, even turning to stare as they walked by. At first, Rung didn’t really mind. After all, it was nice to be noticed for a change.

 However, after this same scene repeated itself on the next five decks he passed through, he couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. Was there something on him? Was one of his panels hanging off? Had Swerve painted his face to look like an organic feline again while he was recharging? He could feel his spark thumping in his chest every time he made optic contact with someone’s lingering gaze.

 Soon enough, it got to be more than he could take. The instant he’d turned into a deserted hallway, he dashed over to the nearest window and attempted to examine himself in the reflection. Unfortunately, this only confused him further. There was absolutely nothing unusual about his appearance. His face was as clean as if he’d just polished it moments ago, all of his panels and surface plating seemed to be in order. He even tried to check his backside in the reflection, worrying that he might have sat in something, as that was a popular place for passersby to stare at.

  “Hey, Eyebrows. What’re we looking at?”

 Rung gave an undignified shriek when he heard the voice in his audial, nearly jumping right out of his plating in surprise. He turned, looking up at a smirking Skids with an expression of utter embarrassment on his face. After all, he’d just been caught looking at his own aft in the window. He stuttered awkwardly, not entirely sure how to explain himself. His spark seemed to flutter uncomfortably in his chest, and he couldn’t quite tell if it was a result of his embarrassment or if it was just adding to it. Whatever it was, it got worse whenever he looked at Skids. He decided it best to just stare at his own peds until he could regain his composure.

  Skids couldn’t help but give an amused chuckle. After all, Rung wasn’t usually the bashful type.

 “What’s wrong, Doc? Turbofox caught your tongue?” he asks teasingly, reaching out to tilt the smaller mech’s chin up, making him make optic contact. The instant their gaze met, Rung drew in a sharp gasp. His spark thrummed hard in his chest, his frame heating instantly. All of his joints seemed to lock up on him. His face, particularly where Skids was touching him, blazed with heat.

 Suddenly, there was a feeling of panic, the same sort he might feel if he’d been confined in a cramped environment for too long. It was as if something in the back of his mind, something primeval, was telling him to run away, to get out of Skids’ reach. Yet, at the same time, that primitive piece of programming didn’t want him to be anywhere else. In fact, he almost wanted to step just a little bit closer…

 “I-I’m terribly sorry, Skids. I really must be going. I’ve, err… I-I’ve got a patient waiting for me.” He stammered out, brushing Skids’ servo away from his face. He then dashed off down the hall, leaving one very confused theoretician in his wake.

 

* * *

  

 Rung didn’t stop until he was safely in his office, not daring to look anyone in the optic along the way. He plopped down in his desk chair, slumping back in it with an exasperated sigh. What in the Pits of Kaon was _that_ all about?! He’d made a complete fool of himself! And why had he gotten so flustered so easily? Did it have anything to do with the way his spark had been acting? He decided it must. It was the only thing out of the ordinary. He thought about heading down to the medibay to get a quick spark scan.

 That would have to wait for another time, however. There was a ping at his door, signaling that someone wished to enter. Rung glanced at his console’s chronometer. Punctual as always.

 “Come on in, Red. It’s unlocked.” Rung called out, taking a moment to tidy up his desk. Luckily his spark had stopped doing that strange fluttering thing and had gone back to feeling mostly normal.

 Red Alert stepped into the spacious office a moment later and immediately proceeded to conduct a full search of the room. Rung didn’t make an attempt to stop the paranoid security director in his search for hidden cameras and listening devices. He’d grown accustomed to it over the centuries.

 Once Red was satisfied, he took a seat on the edge of the large berth mounted against the wall opposite Run’s desk. The petite mech turned his chair around to give his patient a friendly smile of greeting. That was a mistake.

 Rung froze up again as he met Red Alert’s gaze, his spark pounding in his chest. No, no, no! Not now, dammit! Not during one of his sessions! But he couldn’t stop it. He quickly glanced away, hoping he could continue on like normal if he avoided optic contact. Unfortunately, he was sitting across from the galaxy’s single most observant mech. Of course he hadn’t hidden it in time.

 “Is everything alright, Rung? You seem a little… _Off_.” Red Alert asked, brow furrowed and his right hand twitching slightly. It didn’t take much to look suspicious in his mind. Rung quickly regained his composure, clearing his intakes.

 “Y-yes, my apologies. I’ve had a rather… _odd_ morning.” He replied, all the while avoiding optic contact. He unfolded the datascreen mounted to his back, swinging it around to where it was right in front of him. He stared at it intently, though there wasn’t really anything there for him to be looking at. It was merely a convenient excuse to keep his optics busy.

 “Alright then, let’s get started, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

 Their session continued on normally from there. Red Alert recounted his past week on the ship; how he’d gone to the medibay to get his denta checked for secret surveillance chips, how he’d quickly left again once he realized that all of the medical drones were watching him – but only when he wasn’t looking, of course. You know, the usual.

 Rung listened patiently, occasionally tapping out some notes on his datascreen. He’d stayed sitting in his desk chair with his leg hooked rather tightly over his opposite knee. He hoped Red wouldn’t notice he was trying to keep his distance from the red and white mech. Unfortunately, his plan of just listening wasn’t going quite as well as he’d hoped. After a while, just hearing Red Alert’s voice seemed to send his spark a-fluttering once more.

 Soon enough, he actually tuned Red out for a while. He knew the basic rundown of the security director’s paranoid delusions, he could miss one or two and still be on the same page. It was far more important for him to figure out just what in Primus’s name was going on with him and correct it. _Fast_.

 Actually, now that he thought of it, he could just vaguely recall feeling something similar to this before, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what or when. It was a very long time ago, he knew that. That was probably why he was having such a hard time remembering. That and his own EM field was buzzing in his head, clouding his thoughts, practically moving him on autopilot. It wasn’t until Red Alert was describing something he had rather strong feelings about, his emotion showing clearly in his voice and sending a jolt right through the therapist’s spark.

 Rung sat there for a long moment, frozen, his optics wide behind his glasses, his mouth hanging open slightly. No. No, that _couldn’t_ be it. That was _impossible_. He was far too old for _that_ of all things! It had been millennia since the last time this had happened, and it’s _never_ hit this strong!

 But it couldn’t be anything else. It all made sense now. The way his spark flared when he caught sight of an attractive mech, the way his whole frame blazed when Skids barely touched his face, why he was instinctively locking his legs tightly together as he listened to Red Alert speak.

 He was in heat.

 This was bad. He remembered how he acted while under the influence of a heat cycle. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. He remembered what _others_ had told him he was like during a heat cycle. His own memories of those events were a complete blur. That in itself was a testament to how dire his current situation was.

 Rung had to get out of there, preferably _before_ he ended up jumping Red Alert. A ravenous therapist clawing at his interface panel probably wouldn’t help his paranoia at all, especially when said therapist was the only one in the galaxy he trusted. He just had to think up some excuse – and a very believable one at that – to cut their session short.

 “-ung? Rung! Hey, are you listening?”

 Rung gave a startled jump when he heard Red Alert trying to get his attention. Momentarily forgetting his current situation, he made the mistake of looking up. Red had moved and was now standing right in front of him, leaning over into Rung’s face to see if he was still awake. Rung’s face instantly blazed with heat, his hands tightening around the edges of his datascreen. Oh Primus, why did he have to get so slagging close?! He could feel his spark pounding away in his chest, like a war drum spurring him on for the attack.

 Rung stammered wordlessly, trying to think up some excuse, _any_ excuse to get out of this. It didn’t even have to be believable at this point. Just _something_. But he couldn’t think straight. His energized EM field was buzzing in his head like a thousand Insecticons, scattering his thoughts and throwing his processor into disarray. And the way Red was staring at him, those sky blue pearls like pools of clear water staring into him from behind that ruggedly handsome faceplate…

 He barely noticed Red Alert’s brow furrowing, his expression shifting to concentration.

 “What are you… What’s that buzzing?”

Rung snapped out of his daze at that. Oh no… Red had gotten in range of his EM field, and it was getting into his head too! That had to be the worst part of heat; not only did it poke and prod him until he was dying to interface with _anyone_ , it tried to do the same to anyone within the range of his spark’s EM field. He only hoped – no, _prayed_ – that Red was strong enough to resist, that his EM field wasn’t strong enough to influence him.

 Red Alert blinked hard, then rubbed at his faceplates, a somewhat confused expression on his face. Rung’s hopes sank even as his spark swelled and flared, driving the heat in his frame to near intolerable levels. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wanting nothing more than to be able to run away and avoid the inevitable train wreck to come. But he couldn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even break his gaze with Red Alert. His programming wouldn’t let him. His body refused to listen to him, despite how he screamed at it in his head to move. Unfortunately, it decided to listen.

 Slowly, Rung reached a hand forward – or rather his body did – and gingerly caressed Red’s cheek. Red Alert drew in a sharp intake, his faceplates tingling where those heated digits had delicately traced. The security director exhaled, his vents blowing out heated air. That did it.

 “Rung…” He breathed out huskily, bracing himself against the back of the psychiatrist’s chair as he leaned over the slender mech. Rung’s intakes hitched as Red neared, his cooling fans whirring to life to keep his already high temperature from frying his circuits. There was nothing more he could do to hold himself back, so he just let go.

 Rung’s arms shot forward, wrapping around Red Alert’s neck and pulling him down into a passionate kiss. Red let himself be pulled down, humming against the orange mech’s delicate lips. He reached down to stroke up the inside of Rung’s smooth inner thigh, causing him to arch his back and moan against Red’s mouth. With one last ounce of sanity still hanging on through the haze of his heat, Rung pulled away from the security director’s lips with some reluctance. They parted only inches, their heated breaths brushing over each other’s cheeks.

 “R-Red… W-we shouldn’t do this…” he panted out, one last ditch effort to convince Red to fight it, to come to his senses and make it stop before they did something they’d regret. Red, his thoughts hazy, took a moment to consider. He looked the therapist over, slowly. From the attractively pointed features of Rung’s face, down to the sleek curves of his hips, focusing on that orange panel just next to his own hand, heat practically radiating from it.

 No, he decided they _should_ do this.

 Red Alert reached down to the seat of Rung’s chair, fumbling for a moment before he found what he was looking for. Rung gave a small squeak as the back of his chair reclined back about forty degrees, leaving him more laying than sitting. Red took a step forward, sliding a knee between those slender legs of his, parting them with ease. Rung put up little resistance, and spread himself wide for the security director. The larger mech was quick to accept the invitation.

 Rung drew in a sharp gasp when he felt Red Alert’s servo cup his interface panel, his back arching a bit at the sensation. Were he in his right mind at the moment, he’d probably feel pretty embarrassed and ashamed at the way he found himself grinding against the security director’s hand, giving little moans and whimpers as if begging him to open up and frag him senseless. Red muffled the noises by leaning forward and locking lips with him once more. Rung arched his body up off the back of his chair, pressing his abdominal plating against Red’s.

 There was a faint click down below, and Red Alert found that the panel he’d been groping had popped loose, warm lubricants seeping out already to cover his digits. His engine gave a lustful roar as he tossed the panel aside, grinding against the warm, moist opening he’d just uncovered. Rung let out a moan, squirming under the security director at the sensation. He hadn’t interfaced with anyone in over a million years. He’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be touched like that.

 “A-ahh! R-Red! P-please, don’t tease me!” he begged, his frame quivering as much as his voice was. It would have taken all of Red Alert’s willpower to hold himself from ravishing such a seductive, helpless thing as Rung begging for his spike. Luckily, he wasn’t much in the resisting mood.

 There was a light clang of metal falling on the floor underneath them. Red’s spike was pressurized in an instant, it’s cherry red tip already pressing against the slick, pulsating rim of the psychiatrist’s valve.

 Rung let out a loud keen of pleasure as he felt the thick, hard cord slowly penetrate him, it’s raised ridges brushing across over-sensitive sensor nodes. Red puffed out bursts of hot air against Rung’s neck, giving little groans as he sank deeper and deeper inside the petite mech. The narrow cavern hugged his spike tightly, and the heat inside was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

 “Primus, Rung… Ahh…” he breathed out, his voice sounding a bit hoarse already.

 Suddenly, Red Alert delved deep enough to hit a particularly sensitive sensor cluster. Rung gave a howl of ecstasy, his thighs clamping tight on either side of the security director’s waist, his hips bucking instinctively against the thick rod buried inside him. Red gave a loud moan at the sensation, his knees buckling and threatening to give out under him.

 He pulled out as slowly as he’d entered, being sure to drag the ridges of his spike over every sensor node he’d hit on the way in. He braced hand on one of Rung’s hips, wanting to keep the writhing, eager little frame below him steady as he pulled almost all the way out. Rung’s lubricants streamed hot lines down his legs, the warm fluid practically dripping off his spike.

 The security director then slammed back in all the way to the hilt, catching even himself by surprise by the sheer euphoria it sent throughout his entire frame.

 “Oh, Red! Ahh! _Yes!!_ ” Rung called out as his old friend continued to pull out and thrust hard back in again. The small orange mech grabbed onto Red’s shoulders, arching his back and pressing their bodies close together, his hips bucking in time with the larger mech’s thrusts.

 Red Alert was panting heavily, desperately trying to keep his internal components from overheating. Occasionally he let out a moan or some other wordless sound of pleasure, or he whispered out Rung’s name. The heat from that little frame of his, the way his valve tightened and rippled around his spike, how he managed to buck his hips at just the perfect angle at just the right time… Red never imagined it would feel so good! And believe you me, he’d imagined this quite a lot.

 It wasn’t long before Red Alert felt his spike swell with transfluid, his overload fast approaching. He suddenly felt a twinge or apprehension, his intakes catching in his throat. Should he really be doing this? After all, this was his _psychiatrist_ , for Primus’ sake! Could he really face Rung again if he allowed himself to overload inside him? Of course, it might be just a tad late for him to be thinking about that now. He couldn’t think straight. The buzzing in his head told him to finish the job, to take what he’d secretly longed for through an entire war. He was in no position to resist any longer.

 Rung gasped sharply, his whole body trembling as he felt Red’s transfluid rush into his valve. His own overload hit him immediately, pulling a euphoric cry from his vocalizer. His hips continued to buck lightly as he rode out his climax, his valve milking Red’s spike for every last drop of transfluid it had to offer.

 Rung’s optics began to dim even before he fully came down from his high. He’d been so full of energy before, but now it felt as though every ounce had been drained from his body. He looked up at Red Alert through his rapidly fading vision, not wanting this moment to end. He opened his mouth, trying to say something. He wasn’t sure himself what it was he’d said, his own voice muffled and distant as he slipped into unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

 When Rung awoke, his head was still buzzing and his body ached all over. He let out a groan as he sat up in his chair, pressing a servo against his forehead. After a moment, his optics flickered online, his vision little more than a blurry haze. For a while, he couldn't remember where he was or how he'd gotten there, and he particularly couldn't remember why he was laying reclined in his chair with his legs spread wide open. It was especially more confusing when he realized his interface panel was missing.

 Rung let out a surprised squeak, immediately covering himself up. Despite no one being there to see, his faceplate burned in embarrassment. He couldn't even begin to fathom how he gotten into such state! There were just too many questions racing through his processor! He tried desperately to remember what had happened. The answer did indeed come to him eventually, but it wasn't even close to what he wanted to hear.

 He covered his face with his hands. No. No, he _didn't_ …

 He only vaguely remembered Red Alert coming into his office, conducting his usual search before taking a seat on the berth and going over his week. The rest was a series of hazy flashes and recollection of intense feelings. He felt heat surging through his body just thinking about it.

 He'd fragged Red.

 Rung was suddenly sent into full-blown panic mode. Oh Primus, what had he done?! Interfacing with one of his patients had to be one of the worst abuses of his trust and position as a psychiatrist! What would he do if someone found out? More importantly, what would Red think of all this? What would this do to their delicate doctor-patient relationship? Would they even be able to face each other again after this? This could turn out to be the single most damaging thing he could have done to the paranoid security director!

 Rung was jarred from his worries by a ping at his door. He froze. Oh no… Not now! Rung looked over at his console’s chronometer. His optics widened behind his glasses. Not only had several hours passed since he could last remember being conscious, but it was time for his next appointment.

 He leapt from his seat and immediately began a frantic search for the panel that covered his interface equipment. Surely Red couldn't have tossed it far! Another ping spurred him on to search faster, kneeling down to search under his desk. Dammit, he had to find it! His search stopped abruptly when he heard the door slide open behind him. His frame froze once more, intakes catching in his throat. He could feel an optic on him. Just one.

 An unnervingly giddy chuckle reverberated throughout the room.

 Slowly, and with considerable terror in his spark, Rung turned his helm to look back over his shoulder. It was as he'd feared.

 "Hey there~" Whirl greeted with taunting glee. For the first time that day, Rung felt a frigid chill wash over his frame. Oh Primus, this couldn't have been any worse! He saw Whirl's optic travel downward, looking him over and lingering on the psychiatrist's exposed equipment. Had the ex-Wrecker any discernible facial features, he'd have likely been waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Rung gave a small squeak, scrambling to climb up off the floor and into his chair once more, immediately tucking his knees in and covering his exposed equipment with his hands. This earned another chuckle from the enigmatic mech.

 "Hey hey, naked therapy! I'm digging that idea, Doc!" Whirl exclaimed, his single optic forming a smiling crescent as he clicked his crab-like claws. Rung barely had time to look horrified before Whirl whipped off his own interface covering and took a seat on the berth, leaning his back against the wall with his claws behind his helm and his legs spread wide so the petite mech had a good view of everything he had to offer.

 For the first time since Whirl stepped into his office, Rung felt his frame's temperature skyrocket. _No_ , he thought, _why Whirl of all bots?!_ He hadn't felt anything when he first walked in! Why was it only affecting him now? He deduced what it might be, and even though it was Whirl, he felt bad for thinking that way about him. He simply didn't find him attractive. It must've been the empurata. The face held so much emotion, and one typically tended to judge one's aesthetic beauty on the face. Having essentially none made that difficult.

 Rung's optics were immediately glued to the area between Whirl's legs. That was it. It had to be. He hadn't begun to feel like this until the oddly proportioned mech had exposed his surprisingly generous length. His heat cycle didn't much care for aesthetics once he saw what it really wanted. Rung swallowed hard, his legs clamping more tightly together.

 “Wh-Whirl, I think y-you’ve perhaps gotten the wrong idea…” he stuttered out, trying desperately to avert his gaze. It only half worked. He still couldn’t help but sneak an occasional glance back at the blue mech’s crotch. Whirl seemed highly amused by this.

“Funny. That’s what your mouth is saying, but the rest of ya doesn’t seem to agree.” The copter retorted in what Rung could only assume was his attempt at a seductive voice. He then propped one of his deceptively delicate looking legs up on the bench just below the windows of Rung’s office, spreading himself wider and making it impossible for the psychiatrist to focus on anything else. The petite mech went slightly more rigid as he got the full view. Goodness, had Whirl modified it? He had to have. Those studs didn’t look like original equipment. Primus, but did it look like it would feel good…

  _No!_ he screamed in his head, attempting to shake the thought away. It was bad enough he’d already had a romp with Red Alert, he absolutely _couldn’t_ let it happen again, _especially_ with Whirl! But he couldn’t tear his optics away. It was as if he were entranced. He could already feel his seat getting a bit warm and moist.

 “C’mon, Doc. Let’s get this session on the road. Don’t leave me _hangin’_ ~” Whirl teased with a little wiggle of his hips. That did it. Rung couldn’t hold onto himself any longer.

 He pounced.

 Rung was on Whirl in an instant, practically tackling the ex-Wrecker and pushing him back on the berth, straddling his slender waist. Whirl was honestly caught by surprise, though he didn’t show it. He didn’t think the psychiatrist would actually _do_ it. He was just expecting a light scolding before Rung insisted they put their panels back on and get on with their session. His optic was a smiling crescent once more. Looks like today was his lucky day!

 He glanced down, but all he could see past his cockpit was Rung’s face, his optics dimmed and his faceplates colored lightly from heat and lust. He couldn’t see much else, but he could certainly _feel_ it. The first thing he noticed was the sheer heat coming off the petite mech’s frame, particularly where he sat bare across his midriff. There was also a tell-tale area of moisture, and a small drop of lubricant already dripped down onto his abdominal plating. He also felt something hard pressing against his abdomen. He knew what it was already. It felt a bit small compared to the average mech. He would have to remember to tease him about that.

 Whirl was about to get in his first shot right then, but his words caught in his vocalizer as he felt something hot and slick glide over the upper side of his spike, drawing a gasp from him as he clamped his claws tight in reflex. Rung gave a breathy moan, letting the rim of his valve caress every stud mounted on the helicopter’s appendage, coating it with his lubricants. Whirl’s optic dimmed as he felt his spike quickly begin to stiffen, soon standing fully erect between the smooth, round joints that made up Rung’s perky little aft.

 Rung began to slowly rock his hips back and forth, his intakes coming in gasps already as he continued to slide his valve over the surface of Whirl’s spike. Whirl found himself letting out a few soft moans, his featureless helm rolling back as the therapist teased his spike. Soon enough, however, the former Wrecker was tired of playing around.

 Crab-like claws suddenly clamped around each of Rung’s thighs, eliciting a small squeak from him. He glanced down at Whirl, one molten gold optic staring back at him. In the next moment he felt his hips being shifted forcibly, a hard shaft thrusting into him. Rung gave a loud cry, his whole body trembling as he felt Whirl’s full length sink deep into his valve. He wasn’t quite as thick as Red Alert, but the security director was beat on length. And Primus, those _studs!_ The sensation of Whirl’s studded spike on his sensor array was more exhilarating than he’d imagined!

 Rung soon found himself rocking his hips against the faceless mech, letting out gasps and moans of pleasure, his valve tightening and squeezing around Whirl’s spike. The ex-Wrecker was finding it difficult to keep his cool composure, his claws tightening reflexively on the petite mech’s legs, leaving slight indentations. He bucked his hips up into Rung, causing the therapist to arch and tense his body, a particularly loud keen echoing off the office walls.

 “Ahh! Whirl! M-more! P-please, don’t stop!” he begged shamelessly, his heat cycle driving his desire. He continued to ride Whirl as vigorously as his frame would allow, letting out a loud moan whenever the helicopter thrusted into him. Even Whirl found himself panting heavily, the occasional grunt or moan escaping his vocalizer.

 It didn’t take long before Whirl’s thrusts became more erratic, his overload well on its way. There wasn’t any warning before Rung felt the rush of transfluid explode into his valve. He let out a loud keen, bucking his hips sharply as his overload immediately followed, his own transfluid spilling onto Whirl’s abdominal plating.

 Rung’s movements slowly ground down to a halt, his intakes puffing out with little weak whimpers. The effects of his heat cycle faded as he came down from climax, his foggy processor clearing slowly. Once the sense of intense desire dissolved, he found himself staring down at the mess he’d left in Whirl’s lap, his faceplates coloring brilliantly in embarrassment.

 “O-oh Primus, I – _Ooh!_ ” he gave a little squeak of discomfort as he lifted himself off of Whirl’s spike, a few drops of transfluid mixed with lubricant dripping out onto the helicopter’s lap. Rung would have been quite content to crawl off into a corner and hide for the next million years or so. However, he was stopped from doing just that when a claw shot forward and clamped tightly around his neck like a vice. He grabbed at the pincer-like appendage, drawing in a sharp gasp as Whirl pulled him up to look him dead in the optic.

 “You’re not just gonna leave this mess all over me, are ya?” he asked in little more than a whisper, his voice edged in danger. Rung’s optics widened in fear behind his glasses, his frame going frigid once more. Thankfully, he was then released, plopping back down onto Whirl’s lap. He took a moment to gingerly rub at his neck before turning his attention to the ex-Wrecker’s abdomen, a splatter of transfluid streaked up the middle.

 Rung positioned himself kneeling between Whirl’s legs. With a bit of hesitation, he leaned forward and ran his glossa over the blue mech’s abdominal plating, lapping up the transfluid he’d spilled. Though it was his own material, the taste of it had his heat flaring right up again. He gave a light hum, slowly working his glossa over the whole area, taking his time to tease at the gaps in his plating when he thought he could get away with it.

 Whirl found himself squirming under Rung’s glossa whenever he hit a particularly ticklish spot. However, the lower the little orange mech went – and he _was_ going lower – the more the tickles shifted to a tingling, arousing sensation. Primus, what he wouldn’t give to be able to see through his cockpit right now. Suddenly, he drew in a gasp as he felt that warm glossa run a trail up the underside of his spike. After a few more tentative licks, he felt his repressurized cord suddenly engulfed in a warm, wet cavern.

 Rung let out a muffled moan as he worked his mouth over the slick lubricant and transfluid coated spike, his glossa teasing at his studs along the way. He could feel his interface array heating up again, already eager for another round.  Luckily he was sated enough for now to resist the temptation.

 Whirl leaned back against the berth, his claws behind his helm once more. Well, the blowjob was an unexpected surprise, but hey! He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth! Or rather, gift psychiatrist, as it were. He was just going to lay back and enjoy.

 Suddenly, Whirl gasped sharply, his back arching up off the berth, his optic wide and blazing bright.

 Rung had slipped a few digits into Whirl’s valve and was currently exploring the uncharted territory, all the while gently sucking on his spike. He stroked at sensor clusters, delving in as deep as his slender digits would allow. The helicopter was already squirming under his attentions, and letting out sounds Rung hadn’t thought Whirl was capable of producing.

 Whirl writhed under Rung, letting out a series of moans he would sooner take to his grave than have anyone know he’d made them. He’d never had anyone touch his valve before. He’d never _let_ them. The dual sensations of his spike in Rung’s throat and his virgin valve being teased was too much for him to bear.

 Rung gaged at the unexpected rush of transfluid into his throat, pushing away from Whirl and coughing hard to clear his air intakes, a bit of transfluid leaking from his mouth. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, glancing up at his patient furtively.  The former Wrecker just sat there for a long time, panting lightly, his face impossible to read as always.

 In the next instant, Rung was shoved forcefully aside, and Whirl jumped up to his peds. Rung let out a startled yelp as he slammed against the wall, coming to fall on his aft just off the edge of the berth. He recovered just in time to see Whirl hastily replacing his interface covering before briefly glancing back at Rung. Then, he dashed out the door and left the psychiatrist to himself.

 Rung sat there for a while even after Whirl left, a calm, contemplative look on his face. There was something about the way the blue mech had looked at him just before he left… He couldn’t be sure, but it felt different somehow. It felt _significant_. Alas, as is typically the case with a victim of empurata, his face had been impossible to read, completely devoid of meaning.


End file.
